A chocolate croissant and an Oh Henry bar. These things were welcomed into my body. Ah. I am at a lack for words. Clown is challenging.
What sphinx of cement and aluminum bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?
Howl, Allen Ginsberg. I feel as though some sphinx has eaten up my imagination. It’s hiding. I am in need of a shower, yet there is something I love about being filthy. It’s human. I just want to be human. I’m in theatre school. I’m in a place where playing is everything. My struggle to merely stay alive takes up much of my energy, so playing feels very foreign. I’m doing a lot better, world. I am, I really am. I saying no to death at every turn of thought. It is easier and easier, though still tempting. Death is the cowards way out. I’ll go as far to say that suicide is the cowards way out. It is easy to be dead. It is hard to die, to kill yourself, but if you succeed, you’re free, in a way. Living takes skill. Living takes breath and motion and courage. Living is where we can find true freedom. Death is an illusion of rest. Life does not give us rest, but she gives us many more things. I want to know what those can be.